


Lose the Extra Weight

by lucymonster



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Skating, Alternate Universe - Sports, F/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-07-29 02:44:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20074828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: There was a time when Carol couldn't imagine her figure skating career without Yon-Rogg.But as she takes the ice for her single debut, it's hard to remember why she was so afraid of parting ways.





	Lose the Extra Weight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meatball42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/gifts).

Carol takes her starting position to the sound of polite but distinctly lukewarm cheering. Most of the crowd don’t know who she is: this is her world single debut, and the fans are waiting on the edge of their seats for the bigger names scheduled to follow her. There’s only one person out there in the stands who came specifically to see her skate, and honestly, she wishes he hadn’t.

Yon-Rogg made a point of stopping by her morning practice session earlier. He’s not competing – he still hasn’t found a replacement partner, and Carol would be lying if she said that didn’t make her smile just a bit – but he charmed his way in to lurk around the barrier shouting helpful tips until she was forced to flout rink rules and put in her earbuds. It’s taken her a lifetime of hard lessons, but she’s finally learned how to make sense of Yon-Rogg’s help.

‘Stop rushing and stay with the music’ means ‘I can’t keep up with you at that speed’.

‘You’ve gained a bit of weight, better ease up on those carbs’ means ‘I’ve been skipping gym and my arms aren’t strong enough for this lift’.

‘You’re going to tank our PCS if you don’t show more emotion’ means ‘I need you to distract the judges from my own miserable lack of artistry’.

‘I love you’ means ‘Don’t ask too many questions about why it has to be like this.’

That last one really had her, for a while.

When she announced her plan to switch disciplines, Yon-Rogg did everything in his power to stop her. He said she was too old to make the change, too inconsistent to make it past nationals, too plain to carry a program by herself. He talked up how far they’d come together and gushed about how he knew, just _ knew _they were going to take gold at Worlds next time. When those approaches failed, he threw a tantrum that got her dumped by their coach and driven out of Hala FSC under threat they’d hold her back at every step. All those years of representing their club, of sweat and bruises and early starts and training camps far away from home. All those years of playing second fiddle to Yon-Rogg, of taking all the risks and the blame, of believing whole-heartedly that she was lucky a great potential like him had deigned to spend his time on her. All that time wasted playing to his ego, admiring him, begging for the scraps of his affection and approval, when all along she’d have been better off alone.

(‘You were made for singles,’ her new coach Fury said the first time he ever saw her skate. ‘I mean, look at you! All that charisma, all the power in those jumps. I don’t know why they ever paired you off.’ Before she could tear up, he added: ‘Your Lutz is the ugliest damn thing I’ve ever seen. Who the hell taught you to mule kick like that?’)

Well. She’s alone now – alone on the ice in front of a crowd that doesn’t know her and an ex who only showed up to try and psych her out. It doesn’t matter. The crowd will learn. The ex will fail.

The music starts, and Carol pushes off and picks up speed to the sound of the first program score she’s ever chosen for herself. Gone from her life forever are the stuffy classical warhorses Yon-Rogg used to insist on. This is the theme song to her favourite movie, a giddily cartoonish tale about a girl with superpowers who breaks free of her oppressive (and secretly evil) allies to strike out on her own. The metaphor isn’t subtle, but it doesn’t have to be: she’s always performed best when she can ham it up a little.

Footwork. A chain of steps and rockers and choctaws carve rippling grooves into the fresh-cut surface of the ice, and the crowd’s lackluster welcome fades behind the rush of cold wind in her face and the heat of adrenaline in her veins. She picks up speed with a half-lap of powerful crossovers and comes off a difficult back counter into her opening jump: the soaring triple axel that has fast-tracked her through the national ranks under Fury’s determined supervision. 

Her takeoff is perfect. Her air position is perfect. For a breathless split second as she rotates above the ice’s surface, Carol forgets all about Yon-Rogg and Hala FSC. None of it matters. This is her sport, her life, the very best of her, and the simple truth is that she loves it more than she ever loved him. She definitely loves it more than he ever loved her. She’s flying and she’s weightless and everything is _ perfect. _

She lands clean. The crowd erupts – no more apathy, no more impatience. She has their attention.

From here, it’s easy.


End file.
